


vows: or the wedding of bitty steeb and bucko

by darth_stitch



Series: He Blows It Eight-To-The-Bar (In Boogie Rhythm) [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3088316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darth_stitch/pseuds/darth_stitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Penny had asked whether Bucky had already proposed to Steve.  He actually did a little bit more than just propose...</p>
            </blockquote>





	vows: or the wedding of bitty steeb and bucko

If the State of New York had allowed it at the time and if the world had been populated with fewer homophobic assholes, then the official wedding date for Mr. Steven Grant Rogers and Mr. James Buchanan Barnes would have been December 7, 1938.

Of course, their luck being what it is, the morning of their wedding day dawned with Bucky having a very long argument with Death about how She ought to spare his tiny little punk.  Bucky had been having this argument for over a week now, punctuating his point with begging old Doc Sherwood to come over, because there was no way in hell he could bring Stevie to the hospital now.  He’d pleaded his cause with good broth and medicine scrounged up with their meager savings or what he could beg and borrow from friends and neighbors.  (Thank God for friends like Penny and Mae and even old Babushka.) He’d countered with cool cloth dipped in icy water to counter Steve’s fever. 

And his closing arguments consisted of holding Steve close, whispering, “Don’t you leave me.  Don’t you goddamn leave me, Steve Rogers.  You fight this, punk.  You fight this, and live through it, or I swear to God and everything that’s holy, I’m coming after you to the other side.”

And Steve, contrary cuss that he was, tightened those long artist fingers around Bucky’s own, whispers back, “I’m not going anywhere.  Not letting you do anything stupid, Bucko.”

So Death was charmed, evidently, and this morning dawns with Steve’s fever broken, with his thin face less pale and tinted now with a healthier color. 

And Bucky wakes to gentle fingers threading through his hair, the sweetest caress down his cheek.  He turns and captures those fingers with his own hand, pressing a kiss to each digit.  “Hey.”

"Hey yourself."  Steve tugs weakly at Bucky’s hand.  "When’s the last time you’ve seen your own bed, Buck?"

Bucky rubs at his eyes with his free hand.  What he really wants is to crawl into bed with a Steve who’s finally well, fold his tiny punk into a comfortable tangle of limbs, bury his nose into the back of Steve’s neck and sleep for a week. 

At least.

He manages a wan smile.  “Think I’ve forgotten where my bed is, punk.  You better get well soon, get up from there and help me find it.  It’s here…. _somewhere._ "  He gulps comically.

"You’re a mook, I swear."

"Oh is that any way to speak to a fella, Rogers?  Here I am, the very picture of loving devotion, practically living my wedding vows - "

“ _What wedding?”_

"… for richer or for poorer, in _sickness and in health_ and nope, Ms. Death can keep walkin’ - she ain’t getting you, baby, not if I had anything to say about it.”

"Funny I don’t remember nothin’ about this wedding.  Don’t remember gettin’ no proposal neither.  Not that this is gonna work, considering we’re fellas and I don’t think the state of New York’s gotten around to letting two fellas call each other husband and husband."

"Screw the state of New York. You’re my mister, whether I gets a piece’a paper to say it or no."

"I ain’t got no weddin’ ring neither."

Naturally, Bucky takes that as a challenge.  With a bit of sleight of hand, he flourishes it and casually slides it over Steve’s finger.   “Ma’s wedding ring - look it fits you perfect.”

"I, Steven Grant Rogers, take you, James Buchanan Barnes, to be my husband.  I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you… _always._ " 

"That don’t sound quite like the traditional vows there, Mrs. Barnes."

"This ain’t no traditional wedding neither, Mrs. Rogers."  Steve looks a little sad.  "I ain’t got any ring to give you.  Mam was buried with her wedding rings."

Bucky leans close, presses a brief kiss to Steve’s nose.  “You already got me on the ball and chain.  Don’t worry about it.  Just…. don’t leave - “

And at that, Bucky surprises himself by bursting into tears.  He tries to stop himself, angry and embarrassed and tired and frightened all at once.  But he’s the one who gets tugged to lie down next to Steve on his bed, petted and caressed with gentle hands, Steve’s turn to press kisses into Bucky’s skin, wherever he could reach. 

"I ain’t going nowhere, you hear me, Bucky?  Ain’t making you a merry widower just after we made our wedding vows.  I promise."

_"Meow!"_

The boys are startled by the sudden appearance of their next door neighbor’s cat.  _Babushka’s_ pet is a big, strong, fluffy fellow with bright green eyes and once more, he meows. 

Steve laughs.  “See?  We got _Babushka’s_ cat as a witness.”

So that was the _real_ wedding of James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers. 

The wedding reception doesn’t happen until seventy odd years later.  Their guest list was varied and composed of friends turned family.  The food was apparently excellent - not that they noticed, being too busy exchanging kisses.  A Norse God blessed the renewal of their vows and gave a kitten for a wedding present.

And this time, Steve had a wedding ring to slide onto Bucky’s finger. 

They had dogtags too and they went quite nicely with their wedding rings.

_\- end -_


End file.
